


The Woman In Trench

by FanWriter



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 06:05:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3436238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanWriter/pseuds/FanWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>221B hosts its second Christmas party, and Molly has a present for Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Woman In Trench

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so Molly's not totally in character here; she's more confident and having fun. Also, it's more of a friendship with Sherlock and Molly, but could be viewed as the beginings of a romantic relationship.  
> More notes are at the bottom (plus a challegne, #3).

From the personal blog of Dr. John H. Watson

The Deductionist and the Woman in Trench

During my partnership with my dear friend, Sherlock Holmes, I have never seen my friend more intrigued than by the 'case' of which I'm about to disclose - or by the person he was up against. I've met the mysterious master-mind, that is my friend's elder brother; I've met the crazed madness who is Moriarty; I've even met the manipulative suductionress, know as The Woman. Never could I imagine there was someone out there in the world who would be able to match the great Sherlock Holmes. The lady to whom I refer, was right here in London; right under our noses all this time. I'm not even going to alter her name, or location, or any other personal information. In this case, I think we should give credit where credit is due. So allow me to introduce - or, shall I say, re-introduce - to you Dr. Molly Hooper; the Woman in Trench.

SHERLOCK-SHERLOCK-SHERLOCK-SHERLOCK-SHERLOCK

221B was filled for the holidays again. This would be the second Christmas hosted at Baker Street. Mycroft being a new addition - who had apparently been accosted by Mrs. Hudson into coming - as well as Mary Morstan, John's new girlfriend. Currently everyone was sitting around the Christmas tree, handing out their Secret Santa gifts. Rips of paper, laughes and thanks givings cutting through the violin music Sherlock was playing in the background.

''Alright,'' John said from his chair, leaning back up from giving a kiss to Mary's cheek. ''Last gift. I believe it's for Sherlock, yes?'' he asked, looking at the simply wrapped box under the tree. ''Who drew Sherlock's name from the deerstalker?'' He laughed at the memory of putting everyone's name into the much despised hat and having everyone draw names. Of course, he also remembered digging through the names for Sherlock's and giving it to Molly after her pleading with him about knowing the perfect gift. Which was fine by him really, seeing as he had no clue as to what his friend would want.

''I did,'' Molly piped up. Standing up from her makeshift seat on the floor next to Mary, she grabbed the deep-red wrapped box and handed it to Sherlock. She held a finger to him. ''Before you open it -'' she trailed off, a bounce in her step as she made her way to the coat rack. Lifting Sherlock's big trench coat off the peg, she put it on and walked back over. She sat down in Sherlock's armchair, crossed an ankle over her knee, and steepled her fingers under her chin with a smirk. ''Now you can open it,'' she said airily, in a very Sherlock-way.

Confused smirks was the general consensus on facial expressions, minus Sherlock's tilted head and narrowed gaze. After gently setting his bow and violin down on the window ledge, he carried the present with him over to the fireplace, clamly stroking the logs with the poker.

''Oh, don't keep us in suspense,'' Mary groaned, folding her hands around John's leg and resting her cheek on his knee. ''Hurry up.''

Sherlock gave her an annoyed glance before slipping off the bow and letting it fall; it gracefully descending into the fire beside him. Lifting the lid, he looked inside the box to read the words: _You missed your clue._ Repeating the words aloud, he turned to Molly. ''What clue?''

Molly raised her eyebrows slightly, but otherwise remained neutral. ''The clue on the bow, of course,'' she said loftily.

Sherlock turned quickly and grabbed the bow from the fire. Dropping it to the ground, he stepped out the flames that had already started buring the thick material. Sparing a look to Molly, he gave her an audible huff. He knelt down and gently unwound the bow, examining the ribbion. Turning it over to reveal the underside, he saw writting. The fire had burned out some of the words, but he was still able to read a few: _engaged in guessing; expressing; midnight; pondered, weak and weary._ Sherlock pursed his lips in thought. Closing his eyes, he shifted through the information in his mind palace, coming up with the answer shortly after. ''It's lines from Poe's 'The Raven'. Two lines. One is: _This I sat engageed in guessing, but no syllable expressing._ The second is: _Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary._ That's my clue?'' he asked Molly.

''Think Sherlock. It'll come to you.''

''The answer is a raven, obviously. The question is, what are they to you?'' He gave her a calculating stare, deep in thought.

Molly reached into her pants pocket and drew out a tape recorder, and handed it to him. ''I know violin music helps you think.''

Sherlock took the device from her hands, turning it over. He kept his piercing eyes on her as he hit play. The sounds of the stringed instrument filled the air and Sherlock allowed the music to flow the thoughts in his mind. He recognized it as one of the pieces he'd played in the morgue during a trying case some months prior. The piece was almost over when he shut the recording off. ''Ravens. I was needing information regarding a case; you were out to lunch, I went and found you. We were a block away from Bart's when ravens came down upon us, attempting to get at the chips someone had dropped previously. We duck into a shop to get out of their way. A shop called ... A Piece of Cake, Pie and Everything Nice. You brought mini cakes for each of us; even going as far as to write our names in icing. You knew I wouldn't eat mine because I'm on a case - even though John's making me take the evening off - it was your way of ensuring no one else ate it. Meaning I'm suppose to eat the cake? How clever,'' he admonished.

''If you want your next clue, then yes, you'll have to eat the cake.'' A wide smile lit up her face. ''However, I would just like to point out that I'm more clever than you think. Hit the play button again.''

Sherlock's brows knitted together, fingers gliding over to the horizontal triangle and pushing down. About eight more seconds of violin music was heard before the sound was replace by Molly's recorded voice: _''Congratulations. You worked out the clue. Let's see how long it takes you for the next one.''_ Sherlock stared at the woman across from him, amazed that she'd been able to deduce how long it would take him to figure it out.

Needless to say, everyone else was quite mystified as well. ''How did you do that,'' Mycroft asked, peering at her from half-closed lids curiously.

''I see, and I oberseve ... plus I just know him,'' Molly said smugly. ''You next clue, Sherlock. Take the recorder with you.''

Sherlock slowly walked into the kitchen and pulled out his piece of cake from the refrigerator, taking off the plastic wrap Mrs. Hudson had put around it. He'd raised his hand toward the cake, when Molly's voice stopped his movements.

''I said 'eat' the cake, Sherlock. Not tear into it. It'd be horribly rude to make such a mess.''

He turned his head to her and smirked. ''Mycroft's the gentleman; not me.'' With both hands, he dove into the green-and-red layered cake, dissecting it to crumbs. The icing that had decorated it now allowed some of the crumbs to stick to his hands. His search was fruitless and he growled in frustration, banging his fist on the table. ''There's nothing, here,'' he stressed the last word, glaring.

Molly hummed. Reaching down with one hand into her pants pocket again, she withdrew a small envelope, holding it between index and middle fingers for him to see. ''I told you to eat it, Sherlock.''

Sherlock, narrowed his eyes even further upon hearing Greg's snort. Not breaking eye contact with Molly - who was now snuggling his coat - he opened the cutlery drawer and pulled out a spoon. He made quick work of what remained of the cake, trying all the while to remain nonchalant. When he was done, he deposited the dishes into the sink and washed his hands. Striding cooly over to Molly, he held out his hand.

Molly lightly dropped the envelope into his awaiting hand. ''There's a second piece of music on the recorder - should you feel so inclind.''

Ripping open the envelope, he turned it to the side, spilling out a single slide with a fiber trapped in between. Turning on his heel, he made his way over to his microscope and sat down. Putting the slide in place, he studied it, absent-mindedly pressing play for the sounds of the violin to fill his mind again. After a few minutes, he raised his head suddenly. Before he could utter a single word, however, the music cut out, again, replaced by the pathologist's voice: _Excellent as always, my dear Holmes. I trust you know where your present is now - and to think it was right in front of you the whole time._ Sherlock stood and half-strode, half-strutted in front of her.

''I did tell you your coat had a loose string - you ignored me.'' Her amusement broke through and she let out a soft giggle.

''My coat, please, Dr. Hooper.'' He focused on the coat as she stood, and without waiting, reached into the right-sided pocket and pulled out a gold-wrapped package. ''A book,'' he stated; no question in his voice. Prying off the paper, gently this time, he pulled out a brown and caramel colored book, with intricate designs on the spine. ''A book about bees.''

''I really doubt your ability to retire, but, should you ever ... I thought you should be prepared.'' She smiled and bumped his arm with her shoulder. ''I thought you'd enjoy the game more than a present, though.''

Sherlock regarded the book carefully before turning to look at her, a rare, genuine smile creeping over his features. ''Thank you, Molly.'' The recorder came to life again, where it had been left on: '' _Your welcome, Sherlock. If you'll excuse me, though, I really must be getting back - I've an early shift tomorrow. Goodnight.''_ The recorder click off, signaling the end of the tape. Sherlock's gaze returned to Molly. ''How ...'' he trailed off.

Molly simply winked at him and handed him his coat. She made her way to the door and pulled on her own coat and gloves, and tying the hand-knitted scarf Mrs. Hudson had gifted to her around her neck. ''Merry Christmas, everybody,'' she said as she slipped out the door.

''This,'' John exclaimed, breaking the silence that hung in the air after Molly's departure, ''this is going in my blog, right, now.'' Making his way over to his laptop, his fingers began furiously striding over the keyboard.

''Well played, Molly Hooper. Well played,'' Sherlock muttered to himself, staring out of the window as the pathologist stepped into the cab, and rode off into the night.

SHERLOCK-SHERLOCK-SHERLOCK-SHERLOCK-SHERLOCK

''Knock, knock,'' Molly said, lightly tapping on the open door of 221B.

''Kitchen,'' came Sherlock's voice.

Molly stepped around the door and stopped short in the living room. ''What - why aren't you wearing any clothes?'' she asked, staring at the sheet-clad detective.

Without looking up from his microscope, he replied, ''I woke up wanting to do research.''

''Ah,'' she said nodding. ''Well, uh, I'm going to be pulling a double shift tonight and I wasn't sure if you'd be there later or not, so I thought I'd just give this to you now.'' She pulled a small tin out of her bag and place it on the table. ''Happy Valentine's Day, Sherlock.''

''So I'm to assume your continuing with the holiday puzzles, hmm?''

''Just wait til Easter comes around. I'm gonna get a lot of those little plastic eggs, put clues in them and hide them all over the city.''

Sherlock lifted his gaze from the microscope and regarded the tin carefully. ''Thank you,'' he smile. It still felt weird for him to say, but John had become more insistant upon the fact.

''You're welcome. Bye, then.'' She turned to leave before swirling back around. ''Oh, have you heard from Greg? Do you know when he'll be coming back to work?'' she inquired.

Greg had gotten shot on duty on New Year's Day. He'd been in the hospital for two weeks and the department had given him time off to make sure he made a full recovery.

''He completed the last stage of physical therapy. He should be back wtihin the next few days. Is Dimmock getting on your nerves?'' His attention had returned to the slide during the conversation, and he twisted one of the knubs on the side.

''Oh, yeah. Apparently, I'm an incompetent pathologist, with little knowledge of what I'm doing.'' She huffed. ''Anyway, I better go before I'm late. See you.''

Sherlock waited until he heard the front door close and the sound of a taxi pulling away from the curb. Curiously, he picked up the tin and examined it closely. Pulling off the top, he raised his eyebrows at the candy hearts inside. He noticed a piece of note paper taped to the inside of the lid, and read: _I had these candy hearts customized to have one letter on each heart. There are a thousand hearts. I'll leave you to figure out what the message is. xxx Molly xxx._ He stared at the candy and sighed. Clearing off the table, he dumped the candies onto the clear surface and began sorting them. _''V; P; O; I ...''_

**Author's Note:**

> Just a few odd things I wanted to put here:
> 
> 1) Does anyone else think that Mycroft's umbrella is really a gun? I know thinking that the fabric of the umbrella being a bullet-proof shield is probably a little far-fetched, but I think it is something to wonder about ...
> 
> 2) Has anyone seen Charlie McDermott from 'The Middle'. I think he would make a great younger Sherlock or perhaps his kid.
> 
> 3) A challenge - for anyone still reading. I was reading a book the other day and came across this quote: ''The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed. By C.G. Jung.'' I think it would make a great story line for a Sherlock/Molly fic.
> 
> 4) Lastly, go check out ''Ice Man No More by Watsons_Girl''. It's a great story and maybe with more hits, we'll get an update.


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